Blue Caravan
by aptasi
Summary: Carmen knew the sweet lies were her own invention. Like a fool, she believed them anyway.


Summary: Carmen knew the sweet lies were her own invention. Like a fool, she believed them anyway.

Information: Set just before "A Stolen Smile." Loosely based on the song by Vienna Teng. This is actually a very old fic of mine. I was outlining it at the same time as Endgame.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

* * *

It was beautiful. the mysterious silhouette in the moonlight thought.

Carmen could easily see why Heidelberg was called the most picturesque city in Germany.

Especially at night, when the city lit up with a serene glow, the effect of such loveliness was incredible. It placed the weary traveler in the center of a deep valley of lights, surrounded by pinpricks of luminescence. The merry panorama of antique castle turrets and charming buildings relaxed the eyes and warmed the mind.

This night, however, the city was also chilled, by a biting wind off the silent river. Though it was a summer night, and the temperature was far milder than the extremes of her endurance, Carmen felt cold.

It was the kind of night that made her want to be tucked into her own bed, wrapped in a warm heavy blanket.

Or wrapped in someone's arms…

Sniffing contemptuously at her own thought, Carmen did her best to put that particular idea out of her mind.

What an utterly inane notion.

The entire thing was clearly a mental device, a simple thief trying to forget that she had no 'own bed' to go back to. It was a different city every night. Carmen knew she had chosen that life. No sense whining about it.

The thief leaned over the base of the bridge, tapping manicured fingers and inspecting the tick marks along the supports, marking the water levels for years going back centuries.

The river had flooded a time or two since then.

The thief's azure eyes lit on one particular marking, less than a decade one would have been made right around the time she left Acme.

Tonight was the nine year anniversary of that. It might well explain the silly run of sentimentality she seemed to be on.

Tapping her fingers impatiently, Carmen scanned the surrounding area.

After every heist, she always arranged to meet the participating henchmen (those that weren't caught) in yet another city. It allowed her to take stock of everyone's presence supplies and metal state before she dismissed them. Shoddy clean up was a liability Carmen didn't need. So, she made a point of always attending to her own follow up work.

There was a danger though, if she didn't complete her objective quickly. Carmen already could feel her heist-maltreated body beginning to crash.

Having chosen, this time, to meet her employees on this particular bridge, Carmen needed to remain out in the open. Once the thieves checked in, they would be free to discretely enjoy the architectural and cultural wonders of Heidelberg.

Carmen expected that high quality German beer would be prominent in their plans.

One more henchmen remained for her to see. After that, Carmen decided, she would rent a room and get some rest. The shivering and migraine that usually followed her heist seemed to be manifesting more quickly than usual in the night breeze.

Her posture didn't flag. Even if she was bone-weary, Carmen would never allow herself to present as weak.

She did tighten her trench coat, black for a disguise, a little more snugly around her slender frame, though. Pensive eyes watched the river, as the mind supported the body through it's tired fight against the wind. Carmen could hear her worn breath, and it sounded defeated.

"Boss?" Someone ventured softly.

Feeling grateful, Carmen turned to face her final henchman.

This last man was relatively new to her organization, but she recognized him of course. She knew all her workers.

Exactingly, Carmen drilled him on his inventory and observations. Attention to detail did not suddenly become optional just because her temples were pounding.

Checking off the last item on her mental checklist, Carmen nodded. "That will be all for now." She recited professionally. "Have a pleasant evening."

He broke into a wide boyish grin. "Awesome."

The sheer cheerfulness of the expression relaxed Carmen a bit, before she fully realized it.

"Good heist, boss." The henchman congratulated, giving Carmen a friendly clap on the shoulder before melting into the night.

The leader stared after him, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

Her employees didn't touch her.

It wasn't as if she'd ordered them not to or anything. They just… didn't.

With her volatile personality and position of power, most people probably viewed that as roughly analogous to trying to pet a tiger.

Carmen walked with minute clicks of heels to the other side of the bridge, looking up at the castle ruins that rose above the town.

Why had that affected her? How did one casual pat on the back by some random man throw her so completely for a loop?

Immediately, she started to berate herself. Was she really so starved that this generic lackey somehow looked good to her. Pitiful woman. However, as soon as the thought presented, Carmen knew that wasn't it.

Vice was a different notion from affection. In her experience, they ran to polar opposites. One was the fingerprint of her soul and the other... well she didn't know much about the other at all, now did she?

So, Carmen wasn't attracted to him or anything so sordid. She just…

She just wanted a hug.

Sniffing in self-contempt, Carmen called herself several kinds of weak. That sort of sentimentality would never do. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

Frankly, the world would have understood it better if her intention had been licentious. Servants of evil might well have lusts, but they were not permitted feelings. What the body did or didn't feel was irrelevant to the whole equation anyhow.

Admitting loneliness, even to herself, would put the entire villainous paradigm in danger. The vulnerability Carmen was feeling was completely unacceptable, by definition, for her wild persona.

For some reason, this moment had her missing the long evenings in headquarters, when she and her colleagues had pulled all-nighters on cases. In that lighthearted environment, a bit of platonic physical contact, high five's or even hugs, would not have been so out of place.

Naive as only teenagers could be, their team had been tight-knit and fiercely loyal. As they faced danger and heartbreaking situations, they had comforted and reassured each other.

Surely they would be there for each other, no matter what. Nothing could separate them, not distance or choices or even mortality.

It was all a saccharine lie, of course. The kinder of Carmen's friends wanted her to rot in prison now. The rest wanted her dead.

How quickly things changed.

Carmen used that recollection to jolt her from her spiraling thoughts.

Nothing like chilled reality to drive back the tears. If she wanted something, Carmen was going to have to go and get it. No one else was going to do it for her. Comfort was no different from any other material need.

Striding briskly across the cobblestone streets to her hotel, the thief reflected on how she had learned to comfort herself.

The mentors at the orphanage had not been cruel, nor abusive, but they had been realists. They attended to the material and educational needs of their charges. Anything beyond that was the child's own concern.

Though she knew intellectually that someone must have held and rocked her as a child, Carmen had no memory of the feeling. When she had fallen ill as a young girl, there had been food, water, and clean blankets, but no gentle touch to help her heal.

One of Carmen's earliest memories was that of an aggressive stomach virus. At 2:00 in the morning, the frightened child had hidden in the bathroom, struggling to keep her retching silent and knowing instinctively not to wake anyone up.

She had been four.

This was much the same. All the better then, that she had developed that self discipline.

"Boss!" Someone called, running across the bridge.

Carmen turned, schooling her face to something elegant and glamorous. She looked like an old school movie star, but she felt about a thousand years old.

"I found the information you wanted" the lackey volunteered. "About the new detectives assigned your case."

New detectives…

There were always new detectives. No one stayed on her case long. Carmen supposed they just got sick of loosing. Or perhaps it was her taunts and ever personal attacks they tired of.

The perfectly manicured fingertips rested lightly on the photos. "Zack and Ivy."

"You know them, Boss?" The minion wondered.

"Not really…" Carmen mused. "They are new after all."

Nervously, the henchman answered. "Just assigned. "

"Yes, the brother sister team." The master thief wasn't about to admit to the bitter jealously.

Her employee stammered something irrelevant, and she dismissed him, with an icy gesture.

Carmen turned the photos in her hands.

Personal interactions, however deep, were predictable.

Do certain things, and the detectives will despise and avoid you.

Do others and…

A lacquered nail touched the poorly focused image.

It wasn't such a difficult matter to fool the mind. Even her own…She could create a false attachment where there was none, nor even any reason for one.

Carmen could fool them into liking her. She could probably even fool herself into liking them.

But they looked so young.

And she was already so tired.


End file.
